On the Edge of Darkness
by Calliandra
Summary: What happens when Hermione is discovered as the lost daughter of the Lestranges? A story of Draco's inner war, Hermione learning to decieve, and a very complicated DrHrR triangle.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Hello! This is my first fanfic (though I write a lot of original fiction). I've always had a suspicion that Hermione is too smart and powerful to be a muggleborn witch, so I came up with this alternative! There will be plenty of darkness, plot twists, and our favorite characters seen in new lights. Review please!  
  
****  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Draco was at the edge. He could feel it, the dark abyss that was waiting for him, a scarce half inch from the edge of his toes.  
  
"If you put one toe out of line." came the cold threats of his father from somewhere deep in his mind.  
  
"Yes, father," Draco told the voice, his voice every bit as expressionless as he was meant to be.  
  
But in another part of Draco's mind, he was screaming. Always a jumble of thoughts and screams, of feelings that he shouldn't have. And now, he locked them into a deep recess of his mind, caged by the simple thoughts his father asked of him.  
  
There were always meetings in the Malfoy Manor. It was a place muggles were barred from and no muggle-loving wizard or witch would dare find themselves. Not in these times.  
  
The darkness reeked through the house, the coldness penetrating Draco's thoughts. He was on the balcony, but even in the summer, the air around Malfoy Manor was cold, a sharp blow to his lungs.  
  
The Lestranges were visiting that night. Draco didn't like the way Bellatrix looked at him, her eyes crazy-mad and the darkest black color. It seemed as if Bellatrix an her husband, tainted by their years at Azkaban, knew only one thing, loyalty to the Dark Lord.  
  
Draco realized that he was hungry. He had escaped the strict affair of dinner with the Lestranges by feigning sickness, but now his stomach grumbled in protest. He glided down one of the many extensive hallways that ran through Malfoy manor in a maze that was easy for a stranger to get lost in.  
  
He had to pass the dining room to get to the kitchen, and Draco slowed his steps as he approached that doorway. The door was open a crack; the voices of his father and the Lestranges floating through to where Draco was silently making his way across the marble floors.  
  
Father wasn't being secretive anymore, Draco noted. Normally, a Silence spell and other blocking spells would be placed on the room if deatheater activity was being discussed. But now everyone knew that his father was with the Dark Lord (as if there had ever been any doubt before).  
  
"The Dark Lord wishes your son to take this mission," Bellatrix was saying. Draco stopped, a sinking feeling taking over the hunger of his stomach.  
  
"And what mission would the gracious Dark Lord wish my son to complete?"  
  
"And there is also, of course, a little something I am wondering of you, Luci," Bellatrix's voice was sickly sweet, as if she was talking to a child. "We are remembering. We are remembering the times before Azkaban, slowly. It has taken us more than a year to remember our whittle girl.and the Dark Lord says you can help us."  
  
There was a pause in the room. Draco heard his mother gasp, but it was stifled quickly.  
  
"Does Luci remember what happened? Just where did this precious girl of Bellatrix's go? Not down the drain, or I will be very mad."  
  
"I don't remember a daughter, Mrs. Lestrange. You must be mistaken, I know how Azkaban must have fooled with your mind," Lucius said in an even tone.  
  
"Liar! Don't try to lie to me, or the Dark Lord. He knows you lost her! And she must be found by your son!"  
  
"And how, pray tell, would my son know where this daughter is?" Draco could feel the malice in his father's voice.  
  
"Why don't you remember, Luci?" Bellatrix's voice was again sweet and taunting. Even in her craziness, she still possessed the intelligence and power that had been hers before Azkaban. "A little Dumbydore took her away from you, right under your nose. She must be there, at Hogwarts. And when your son goes back, Drakie will find my little girl, and her powers will be revealed."  
  
Drakie? Draco almost snorted despite the delicate situation he was in. But he didn't, and he realized that the voices from the dining room had stopped. Draco was already storing away the information he had gleaned from that meeting for later speculation. He quickly made his way back to his room; he wasn't hungry anymore.  
  
****  
  
Hermione was looking through old photo albums in the attic. It was summer, and light streamed through the high, circular window and illuminated the dust that floated in the air.  
  
She had come up to the attic to retrieve an old favorite book and her eye had caught the albums lying underneath it. She couldn't help but lift out the treasures of her childhood, a small smile on her face. Her parents really loved her, even if they would rather not place the albums in their spotless living room, they had still created these albums.  
  
Books of Hermione's accomplishments in primary school, albums of their first holidays, birthdays and vacations, all dated throughout Hermione's childhood, and all with her mother's neat handwriting on the back.  
  
Hermione didn't know how long she was up there, but the afternoon sun was receding when she looked at the last album.  
  
She was an infant in this book, the pictures labeled neatly with the date and her age on the back. But Hermione reached to where she was six months old, and the book ended.  
  
That's odd, Hermione thought, that was the last book. There was no baby book, or any other pictures in the trunk where the albums had been placed. The room suddenly grew cold to Hermione, the setting sun no longer reached into the attic, and Hermione felt a shiver.  
  
She hugged the Chudly Cannon's T-shirt closer around her. Ron had given it to her for her last birthday, and she had been initially.well, shocked and then mad. Couldn't he just stick to books? First perfume and then this hideous orange thing? Admittingly, the perfume had been nice, if a little odd.  
  
But in the comfort of her home, she had instantly felt closer to Ron wearing the shirt. She knew he would give that lopsided smile and tease her for wearing it, but he couldn't see her now.  
  
And she was letting these thoughts run her away from the matter at hand. Hadn't her parents taken pictures of her as soon as she was born and home from the hospital? Hadn't her parents loved her at first sight? They had taken tons of pictures of her at every other age.  
  
You're letting yourself get carried away, Hermione scolded herself. There is probably a simple solution for this.  
  
Determinedly, for Hermione always pursued information in something she didn't know, she made her way downstairs.  
  
"Hermione," acknowledged her mother, bustling about the kitchen. "Won't you help me dear? The lettuce needs to be washed and chopped."  
  
Annie Granger was short, with a practical bob of brown hair streaked with gray. With pleasant features and a keen eye, Hermione wished she was more like her mother was at her age. The older photos of her parents before she was born and of her mother in High School showed a beautiful young woman with wavy brown hair and astounding blue eyes. But Hermione's hair was bushy rather than wavy and her eyes were a lighter shade of her father's brown, and she wasn't near as beautiful as her mother had been.  
  
"What in the world are you wearing, Hermione?" her mother asked, hands on her hips.  
  
Hermione blushed. She had forgotten that she was still wearing Ron's orange shirt. And dinner at the Granger's was normally a small, but nice and proper affair.  
  
"It was a gift from Ron. Don't worry, I'll change before dinner," she reassured her mother. Hermione took the lettuce out from the refrigerator and began to run water over it.  
  
"I was looking through photo albums this afternoon," Hermione told her mother, who was busy at the stove.  
  
"Did you want to take some of them with you, when you leave?" Her mother asked. This was Hermione's last summer with her parents, the summer before she would finish Hogwarts in her seventh year, and fully become part of the wizarding world.  
  
"Oh, no, really! I'll visit you enough, mother," Hermione said. She felt her stomach flutter slightly, her nerves hanging by a thread. "What I wanted to ask you was whether I had a baby book or not."  
  
"I don't believe we ever filled in one of those books, but there should be plenty of pictures."  
  
"But there aren't any pictures of me from before I was six months old up there." The two women were now facing each other, each having turned away from their duties. Hermione could see the blank look upon her mother's face.  
  
"They must be misplaced somewhere.I've been meaning to clean out that attic for the longest time." Annie turned back to stirring her stew.  
  
"So there are pictures of me, right? I mean, you remember an album with pictures of me when I was born?"  
  
Her mother was silent for a moment, her face turned away. "Of course," she said.  
  
But Hermione couldn't help but notice the flash of a confused look upon her mother's face before she preoccupied herself with the stew.  
  
Something was definitely wrong, Hermione thought, a tiny knot beginning to form in her stomach. 


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I forgot to mention in the last chapter that there are OotP spoilers in this fic. I don't think it matters much, as surely anyone who reads fanficiton has already read the fifth book?  
  
Chapter 2  
  
It wasn't until almost a week before summer was about to end that Lucius told Draco about his mission.  
  
"Master Malfoy is requesting Master Draco in his study at this moment," said the house elf that quickly disappeared.  
  
Draco had been waiting a full two weeks for this. He couldn't ask his father anything because he wasn't supposed to have overheard anything. And Draco wondered what his father may have been looking into during these past to weeks.  
  
Quickly tidying up his appearance, Draco looked into the large mirror in his quarters. White-blond hair slicked back neatly, not a speck of lint nor hair on his dark robes; he was ready.  
  
It was never exactly a pleasant thing to be in the presence of Lucius Malfoy, but Draco refused to let any speck of fear show on his face. Most of the times, he managed to convince himself that he wasn't afraid. Most of the time, he managed to maintain the expected façade. And Draco didn't want to think about the other times.  
  
He stood in the doorway to his father's study. Rule #16: Never speak unless you are spoken to.  
  
"Draco," came his father's voice from where he sat at the large desk. The study was decorated in various shades of black and gray, and though large, Draco could feel how it pressed in upon him. He couldn't breathe.  
  
But the moment was soon over. He stood in front of his father's desk, waiting for the annual speech and hopefully the news of his mission.  
  
"My only son. I had hoped that you would live up to my expectations this year, especially after our.chat.last summer after your O.W.L results. And while you may have done better than most expected, I do not wish to see you think that you can relent upon your studies this year."  
  
Draco had been preparing himself for more remarks on the fact that he hadn't scored as high as that Granger girl. Their O.W.L.s had been surprising close, but Granger had beat him, scoring an O in almost everything. It simply wasn't humanly possible to beat her. Yet after the little "chat" (as his father had called it), Draco had worked harder than ever in his sixth year, and he wondered if it had finally paid off. Was his father proud? Lucius probably wouldn't opening admit it except to the other deatheaters, but Draco could feel a surge of hope rise in him.  
  
His father was holding his Hogwarts letter. And there, in his other hand, was a badge. A Head Boy Badge.  
  
"I believe his is yours. I am glad to see that it won't be on that filth Potter's robes this year, but on a Malfoy, where it belongs."  
  
"Yes, father," Draco said, taking the badge from him. It shimmered a bright gold against the dreary study. Malfoys always wore silver, never gold if they could help it.  
  
"I hope you know that I am expecting top marks from you. You will be taking your N.E.W.T.s this year, and I do not wish to see anything below great. As well, you shall be coming of age this year, and that poses many more responsibilities, Draco."  
  
And here it was coming. The tasks his father would set him, something that made him both revel in the pride of being given responsibility and also made a part of his mind shiver.  
  
"There is something that the Dark Lord wishes you to do. Listen carefully, Draco, for the Dark Lord has had his eye on you for a while yet and you would do well not to mess this up. There will be no seconds chances." Lucius' ice-blue eyes bore into Draco's.  
  
"The daughter of the Lestranges has been hidden at Hogwarts. We didn't have the means until now to find her. She will be in your year, and she will have been heavily disguised by Dumbledore." Lucius drew a sneer at having to speak that name. "I will teach you the incantation that will allow you to determine who she is."  
  
"And Draco, when you find out her identity, you must owl me immediately. And remember, this girl is powerful, the Lestranges are very loyal to the Dark Lord, and he knows it. I shouldn't have to tell you not to start a fight with her." There was a gleam in Lucius' eye, as if he was planning something. Well, his father was always planning something.  
  
Draco breathed deeply, not sure whether the assignment was a blessing or a curse. At least I don't have to kill anything, he told himself. Or confront monsters, or do any number of scary things that could have been bestowed upon me.  
  
All he had to do was find a girl.  
  
****  
  
Hermione spent the last month of her summer at number 12, Grimmauld Place as she had for the last two summers with Ron and Harry.  
  
She was greeted enthusiastically by all of the Weasleys who were in current residence. Hermione saved a special smile for Ron, and was comforted by his lanky figure.  
  
"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked, moving up the staircase. Ron was right behind her, pulling her trunk.  
  
"He just arrived the other day, but he won't come out of his room," Ron said, his voiced saddened. Harry had indeed gone through tough times, and sixth year had been no exception.  
  
"We have to talk to him, Ron. He can't see this as.he can't go on thinking that everything is his fault; it'll kill him."  
  
"I know."  
  
Harry was laying on the small bed in the room he shared with Ron, staring at the ceiling. Even when Hermione sat across the bed in the window seat, he didn't move his eyes. He looked washed out, his hair was still a mess, his glasses askew, with bags under his eyes. Hermione would have thought that he was sleeping with his eyes open if he hadn't spoken.  
  
"I still can't believe how stupid I am. Going back to the veil with Luna. I just.wanted him back so badly, as if bringing him back would make everything alright, balance out all the bad that happened.  
  
"And then, I screwed it up again. And Luna.she didn't deserve to die. Did I tell you, right when she was falling into the veil, she looked right into my eyes, and I swear I saw a smile there." Harry had tears falling down his face, but he continued to talk.  
  
"It's funny. Summer always gives me too much time to think. To think, and wait, and wonder what will happen next year. And yet, this next year is coming too quickly; the end is coming too quickly. This is the last year, Hermione. I know it. And I'm beginning to think I won't make it."  
  
"Well, if you think like that you probably won't make it," was Hermione's reply. She wasn't going to play the person that would make false promises or give him too much hope, he'd already had plenty of that.  
  
Harry snorted. It was a funny thing; this boy, now almost grown into a man, laying on his bed like he might never get up, snorting to the ceiling. Hermione laughed, and Harry did also. It died out a little too quickly; things certainly weren't like they were before.  
  
"Er.thanks, Hermione. I'm glad you're here," Harry said, and he raised himself up with a little smile. And they didn't need to say anymore, because they were in the middle of a war and they knew each other so well, and everything just keeps on going, even during that war.  
  
"Hey," came a voice from the doorway. It was Ron, of course. "Can I come in, or is this a private party?"  
  
"Nothing's private when the Weasleys are around," Hermione said with a smile. Ron bolted in, crashing onto his bed(with his bright orange quilt from the Burrow), and knocked over a lamp in the process.  
  
They all laughed, and it felt good to laugh as if there wasn't something huge and dark waiting for them. These were her friends, and nothing could keep them apart, nothing could tear the bonds they had made with each other over the last six years.  
  
Or at least, that's what she thought. 


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Wow! People reviewed! Yay! *happy author dance* Anywho, another chapter today for everyone, though it is a bit short (just over 1,000 words), I wanted to get this part over with, so I can get to the fun parts of this story! Review please!  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Draco boarded the train alone. He didn't turn around to wave at the onlookers; no one would be waving to him. He squared his shoulders and placed a content sneer on his face, he had gotten good at that.  
  
He often wondered, if he had a chance, would he be able to be anything but the sneering, deceitful Draco Malfoy of Slytherin? But it was a question best left unanswered, a question best locked into that one part of this mind. But that caged part was growing too fast for his liking.  
  
He entered the car where Crabbe, Goyle and the other Slytherin's from his year were waiting. Lounging upon the wide seat, Draco stifled a yawn as Pansy began to describe, in great detail, her whole summer vacation to Millicent Bulstrode.  
  
This really is a bore, as usual, Draco thought. Ah, well, as least he had that mission to concentrate on. Draco fingered the necklace his father had given him, Lucius had been very vague about the particulars, but Draco supposed that he was supposed to figure these things out on his own. The sooner he had figured out who the silly girl was, the less mad his father would be and the more pleased the Dark Lord would be.  
  
Draco felt his stomach clench. But isn't that want I want? He asked himself. Don't I wish to be at the top of the ranks with my father?  
  
Yes, of course. How could it be otherwise?  
  
Draco got up, and signaled to his cronies that they were to take their annual visit to the Dream Team. Crabbe and Goyle stuffed the remaining cupcakes into their already full mouths and followed him out of the compartment.  
  
They passed many cars filled with bumbling Hufflepuffs, shy first years, and loud-mouthed Gryffindors, but didn't bother any of those; they were looking for a particular compartment to terrorize.  
  
And there it was. Granger had a book on her lap, her hair bushier than ever, and Potter and Weasley were playing exploding snap, laughing without a care in the world. The picture made a boil of anger in Draco's stomach; didn't they know that they would probably be dead by the end of this year? Were they just going to laugh the Dark Lord away?  
  
"Well, look what we have here.I'm surprised that you all didn't just stay the summer over at Hogwarts, it would have been much safer for you. But then again, I'm not certain Dumbledore will be in any state to protect you soon."  
  
"Sod off, Malfoy!" Weasley retorted, a fire in his eyes. "Or do you like looking like slugs?"  
  
Draco felt his smirk wipe off his face; at the end of fifth year Draco and his buddies had been the victim to a splew of curses, rendering them to look like nothing more than rotten slugs. His father had not been pleased.  
  
"You'll do well to follow the rules, Weasel. Especially as they'll be changing for the better this year. It looks like your sorry Mudblooded girlfriend won't have much of a future soon," the smirk was back on. Draco felt the power he had over these beings; just a few words and they were scared. Well, they have reason to be!  
  
Of course, at the word Mudblood, Ron's hands clenched into fists and he had to be restrained by Potter. Draco's father had told him not to make any female enemies whilst the identity of the Lestrange girl was a secret, but it couldn't very well be Granger. She could never pass off as a daughter of a Deatheater.  
  
Draco looked at the golden badge that was secured to the front of Granger's robes.  
  
"Forgetting something, Granger? A little meeting, perhaps? I was counting on being fashionably late.but fashionable would never be used in terms with you."  
  
A loud gasp emitted from the Granger's mouth, and a horrified look was on her face.  
  
Draco didn't stay to listen to her whiny voice. He sauntered out of the room, taking his time moving along the long train. He allowed himself the time to think about his assignment, fingering the silver necklace in his pocket.  
  
Draco that decided that if the girl wasn't in Slytherin then she may be in Ravenclaw. That seemed the likeliest house, as the girl would most likely be smart, and having been raised by another family, may not exactly have Slytherin ideals.  
  
E could hear Granger and Weasley rushing down the train and approaching him. Draco chuckled; this was going to prove to be an interesting year.  
  
****  
  
When Draco had walked into their compartment, Hermione's first impulse was to groan, couldn't he leave them alone?  
  
And then Draco had smirked at her Head Badge, and had reminded her about the meeting. How could she forget such a thing? Ron had forgotten also, but of course it was all her fault. She was the responsible one, she was Head Girl, while Ron was a only a Prefect.  
  
"Er.I think you guys better go now," said Harry. Hermione barely had time to grab her carry-on bag with a few of her books before they were already dashing out of the compartment, the small hallway a red blur.  
  
Draco hadn't gotten far ahead of them. In fact, he was sauntering at a leisurely pace. Hermione felt her blood boil at his lack of respect, but calmed herself; she was late also.  
  
"Move out of the way, Malfoy!" Ron called as they were scarce feet from him. But he didn't pay them any attention, scooting over a few slight inches. Ron didn't waste time to stop and yell at Malfoy, just squeezed through with the minimal of curses uttered under his breath. Hermione had been about to reprimand him while she was passing Malfoy, when her book bag caught on Malfoy, resulting in an ungraceful clump of limbs and books.  
  
"Granger!" Malfoy growled from beneath her. He got up, an elbow jutting into Hermione's side, and scowled at her.  
  
"Hermione! You okay?" Ron asked, helping her get up. He shot a glare at Malfoy and but he was already sauntering on his way, complaining of lack of respect and how he would have to wash his robes right away.  
  
"Thanks, Ron," Hermione said, taking her book bag from him. Their hands touched and Hermione felt a warm glow in her stomach.  
  
"We are going to be horribly, impossibly late," Ron said with a smile. And they made their way to the front of the train, hand in hand.  
  
But what once might have sent a welcome shiver up Hermione's spine and bring a blush to her cheeks, didn't this time. It felt odd to be holding hands with Ron, like she shouldn't be doing it. And this time when they passed Malfoy, he made way for them, his eyes a silver flash. 


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! I love you peeps!  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Hermione didn't know what was happening to her. When she and Ron had arrived in the compartment, McGonagall had shot her a questioning glance and Ron had muttered an apology. Professor McGonagall had then continued with her yearly speech about Prefect duties, rules, and the like.  
  
It wasn't until the meeting was almost over that Draco arrived.  
  
"Fortunately for you, Mr. Malfoy, I cannot take points away for your tardiness as term has not officially begun. However, I would advise you to be on time for the next meeting."  
  
Draco didn't have time to apologize, if he had even intended to.  
  
"That's a bit harsh, don't you think, Professor McGonagall?" Hermione said, her eyes flashing. "After all, Ron and I were late also."  
  
The whole compartment became unsettled, and Hermione could feel various incredulous looks being sent her way, especially from Ron. Hermione didn't meet anyone's eyes, what had she said? Why had she said that?  
  
"I believe, Miss Granger, that I shall continue with the meeting now," said Professor McGonagall, putting the attention back on herself for the rest of the meeting.  
  
The rest of the day went as exactly as it had the last seven years. The train arrived at Hogwarts just as it was getting dark; the first years (looking so tiny; it was hard to realize that she and Ron and Harry had once been that small) sailed across the water in crisp weather, and were later sorted into their respective houses.  
  
Hermione caught Harry's eye at the Welcoming Feast. This would be their last year here, their last chance to see first years sorted, their last chance to.Hogwarts had become such a big part of all of their lives. Hermione just hoped that the year didn't go by too quickly.  
  
Nothing more was said about her burst of uncharacterized behavior in the train.  
  
****  
  
It wasn't until later, when Draco was reclining in his new room as Head Boy, that he realized the necklace was missing.  
  
Draco searched through his belongings and the pockets of his various robes without avail.  
  
Perhaps he had dropped it somewhere. He last remembered it on the train.Darn it, it could be anywhere from the floor on the train to the pathway and horseless carriages that carried them to Hogwarts, to the Great Hall.  
  
He cursed under his breath, how could he have lost the necklace? His father had told him it was very important, and that it would help revel to him the Lestrange daughter. At least the charm would still work.he hoped.  
  
His room was decorated in Slytherin colors, resplendent in green and silver. Long, dark green drapes hung from his four-poster bed and hung from the large window that looked over the Forbidden Forest. A doorway led to a large bathroom decorated in gold and green, and another led to the Head's common room.  
  
That room was decorated in Gryffindor and Slytherin colors, with two separate couches facing a large fire and two large desks at either side of the room. Two doorways (also on opposite sides) led to their respective common rooms. Draco had laid the rules down strait upon meeting with Hermione in their common room.  
  
"I don't want to see or hear from you, alright Mudblood?" Draco had said.  
  
"Don't you think that nickname is getting a little old, Malfoy? I think we ought to call a truce. After all, we'll have to be working together this whole year," Granger had said in her bossy voice. Her cinnamon eyes danced with the fire reflecting in them, but her eyes didn't hold malice, nor spite. Rather, they held understanding.?  
  
"You really are off your rocker," Draco had said, but for the first time in talking to Granger he didn't sneer. "First you defend me against McGonagall, then you call a truce? What happened Granger, finally realized how good-looking and out of your league I am?"  
  
"No, Malfoy," Hermione spat the words. "I simply thought to make this year a bit easier on us both. A mutual agreement of some sort."  
  
Granger was proposing an agreement? When would a Gryffindor ever make any sort of agreement with a Slytherin? There was certainly something amiss with this girl.  
  
"I have one: You leave me alone, Granger. I leave you alone." And Draco had walked out of the room, his head held high, as always.  
  
And now Draco sat in his chair in his room. It wasn't as grand as his room at Malfoy Manor, but a lot of the times, it was much preferable. Except when you happen to be sharing a bathroom with Granger. Was it really that hard to make a bathroom for each the Head Boy and the Head Girl?  
  
He may as well go to sleep and hope the necklace would turn up somewhere tomorrow. Magical items did have a tendency to disappear and reappear at seemingly odd moments. Draco lay in his bed, the drapes moving softly in the wind from the window that was open a tiny crack, and didn't dare let himself think about the thoughts that continually plagued that caged part of his mind.  
  
****  
  
Hermione didn't know what was happening to her. Why had she stuck up for Malfoy? Why had she proposed a truce?  
  
The only reasonable explanation she could come up with was that her hormones were out of balance or something. Ought she go see Madame Pomfrey in the morning?  
  
It was probably just a one-time thing. At least Ron hadn't told Harry. In fact, no one had said a word about it.  
  
Hermione lay in her bed, comfortably decorated in Gryffindor colors, and thought about that day. She couldn't get to sleep, not with these thoughts swirling around in her head. She may as well read something.  
  
Lighting the room with her wand, Hermione dug into her book bag for a bit of light reading. As she grabbed the book, her hand brushed across something metal and thin.  
  
Curious, she grabbed onto it and took out the offending object. The fine chain was cool against her skin, and the silver of it glowed and sparkled in the sparse light from her wand. On the chain was a pendant of silver woven into a complex knot.  
  
The silver seemed to hum in her palm. There was magic in this object, some old and deep magic that was awakened by Hermione's light touch. She felt the energy from the necklace sweep over her, intoxicating her in a rush of some unnamable force.  
  
Hermione dropped the necklace before she could think. Was this some sort of dark object? She remembered Ginny's stint with Tom's diary in her second year. The same could easily happen to her, Hermione was muggleborn and therefore a target for dark magic.  
  
Hermione left the necklace where it was; she could ask somebody about it in the morning. A brief thought flew through her head before she succumbed to sleep; had she seen that symbol of knots somewhere before? 


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Don't worry, Hermione won't turn evil! However she may have to act a bit evil, but it will be acting, and she won't like it. Thanks for the reviews! They make my day and convince me to try to get a chapter up everyday (er...actually, this one is a bit of a treat, less than 15 hours since my last update!)  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Draco sat in the Great Hall for breakfast and debated upon how to go about performing the charm. He had to have his wand in his hand, and stare at the victim for precisely 2.5 seconds after muttering the incantation. It wouldn't be hard, it wasn't any piece of dark magic, and just a counter- charm to whatever spell Dumbledore may have placed on the girl to change her looks. But the counter-charm could take as long as a whole day to show itself completely.  
  
The Slytherins would be easy enough; he saw them everyday. He could practically rule them out anyway, but Draco wanted to be on the safe side. Wouldn't want to have another little 'chat' with Father anytime soon.  
  
Once more people floated into the hall for breakfast, Draco figured that it would be as good as any place to start the charm. With all the normal ruckus, nobody would be paying any particular attention to him, and even if they did, it wasn't like anyone could do anything to him.  
  
One good thing about being a Malfoy, Draco thought, nobody messes with you if you don't mess with them first.  
  
Holding his wand underneath the table, Draco discreetly looked over at the Ravenclaw table, pretending to be staring off into space. There was Mandy something-or-another, a seventh year girl he recognized in many of his N.E.W.T. classes. He cast the spell upon her, and the girls sitting next to her, being careful to stare for two and a half seconds after muttering the incantation.  
  
Draco spent that first day in a sort of daze, performing the spell whenever he saw a seventh year girl that had the slightest chance of being the Lestrange's long lost daughter. There were surprisingly, a lot of girls that he had never thought to even look at before. Draco knew he would probably one day marry whatever girl his parents wished him to, but that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun now, did it?  
  
Dinner found him once again shooting the charm discreetly. He was looking over the Hufflepuff table, and wondering if there was any chance in the world the Lestrange girl was there.  
  
Wouldn't that be funny, the Lestrange girl prodigy, a Hufflepuff? Draco had taken to calling her the mystery girl. Could one of those girls actually be a dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty? She would certainly look like Bellatrix in her younger and saner days with strait hair, as black as night.  
  
His focus moved onto the next table where Granger was reading and eating at the same time. Might as well do the spell on her so I can cross her off the list, Draco thought as he counted the short seconds. He was on a roll, how many times had he performed that spell today?  
  
All of the sudden, the day's activities began to wear on him. He probably shouldn't have done it so many times on the first day, hadn't his father warned him about something like that?  
  
He debated whether to go to the Hospital Wing or to just go to bed. He decided to just get some sleep, he'd probably be better by tomorrow. He had better lay off doing so many spells like that, but then again, he may have found the girl already. Tomorrow we'll see.  
  
Draco didn't even remember getting into bed.  
  
****  
  
The necklace was right where Hermione had left it. It seemed to look up at her from it's careless position. It seemed to say to her, "How could you leave such a precious possession such as myself here on the ground?"  
  
That's silly, she told herself. It was just that the object was so odd.and there was something familiar about it.  
  
Hermione left it there as she took a quick shower. It was still there, waiting, when Hermione entered her bedroom. Well, what did I expect, Hermione asked herself, for it to walk away?  
  
She knew what she had to do now. If there was one thing that Hermione didn't like, it was not knowing something. What did those symbols mean? Where had this come from? Too many questions circled in Hermione's head; she had to go to the library.  
  
It wasn't until after afternoon classes that Hermione found time to go to the library, unfortunately. She spent most of dinner pouring through a book that most likely had the symbol in it somewhere. She had checked it out of the library when Ron had nagged her about eating, and was now furiously searching through it at the table.  
  
"Hermione, it's the first day of classes and you're already going to the library and reading books through dinner?" Ron whined, in-between shoveling food into his mouth.  
  
"I just have to know." Hermione said, her eyes not leaving the page. The Symbols were interesting, a whole new field of information.  
  
But she was getting sidetracked again; she had to find the symbol of that knot. Hermione turned the page, and the next, and the next, until she had altogether stopped eating at all.  
  
"You're obsessed, Hermione," Ron declared, then leaned over to see what she was reading. "What's all those funny symbols? They aren't runes, are they?"  
  
"No Ron, not runes," said Hermione, exasperatingly.  
  
"Right. What are they, then?"  
  
"Can't you just leave me alone?"  
  
Ron left her alone then, but she could feel the anger and heat resonating from him. He'll get over it, Hermione thought as she took the book and began to walk back to her room. It would be easier to find the knot if she was actually looking at the necklace, anyway.  
  
Later, in the privacy of her room, Hermione was skimming through a section of the book labeled "The Most Ancient Family Symbols and Meanings" when she saw it.  
  
There it was, exactly like the necklace laying on the floor next to Hermione. Two pieces of fine silver, woven in an unconceivable pattern that seemed to twist in each passing glance. Hermione jerked herself from the necklace's enthralling pull and turned to the book.  
  
"The Most Ancient Symbols of the Family Lestrange."  
  
The name popped out at her. The Lestranges were two of the Deatheaters who had escaped Azkaban almost two years ago! How had this necklace come to be here?  
  
"Symbols of this nature are found most normally upon the crest of the House of Lestrange, and upon rare and magical heirlooms of jewelry and swords crafted especially for said Family."  
  
Hermione read on, but the page did not go on to say anything that may have helped Hermione. Nothing about whether it might have dark spells placed upon it, or why it might have found it's way into the life of a muggleborn.  
  
But Hermione knew that Lestrange was a name as surely evil as the name Malfoy. Determined not to touch, or even look at, the object again, Hermione resolutely shut the book with a snap and got up on her feet.  
  
Perhaps she had been sitting down too long, or perhaps the stressful day had taken a toll on her. Whatever the reason, Hermione was more than a bit wobbly on her feet, and felt a bit ill to boot. Her vision began to cloud darkly at the edges, and before she could even think of visiting Madame Pomfrey, Hermione fell half-onto her bed in a state that was neither fainting nor sleeping, but somewhat of a combination of the two. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
Draco was dreaming again.  
  
Everything was covered in ice; ice that sparkled blue and white and darker ice that seemed to suck not only warmth, but also feelings. The dark ice spread quickly, and it was stifling, suffocating. It was taking his magic, his ice-heart, and leaving only a shadow of a man behind. The man (he, himself?) screamed the scream of tortured souls who have lost everything. And there was no more light ice left, only dark.  
  
Draco woke up with an awful headache, feeling almost as bad as he had the night before. He took a few minutes to sit up, letting the remains of the dream wash over him and dissipate. No need to get worked up, it was only a dream, he told himself. He opened the drapes around his bed, but remained sitting on the edge.  
  
"You've been acting strangely lately, Draco Malfoy," said a shadow on the other side of the room.  
  
Blaise Zabini had the most remarkable gift of being unremarkable. He had dark hair that swept over his dark eyes in an almost camouflaging nature. His features were not gruesome, but nothing that particularly sparkled either. He had a level tempter and an observant and calculating nature, good traits in a Slytherin.  
  
The Pureblooded witches and wizards of Great Britain were all interrelated, but the Zabinis were related very closely to the Lestranges. Blaise is a cousin of the Lestrange girl, Draco remembered from the genealogy charts and family trees he was expected to memorize. Did Blaise know anything about her? Draco didn't think the Lestranges nor his parents had told anyone else about this yet, but.Wait. What was Blaise Zabini doing in his private bedroom?  
  
"What are you doing here, Zabini?" Draco asked, ignoring the throbs of pain in his head.  
  
"Just checking up on you, Draco. Nothing to be concerned about."  
  
"Now that you mention me acting strangely, I do have a bit of a headache. I expect I'll pay Madame Pomfrey a visit and then be as right as rain," Draco said, even managing to draw a weak smirk from his lips.  
  
"I will have some questions to ask you when I come back, Zabini," Draco warned. Namely, how the hell Blaise had managed to get into his room.  
  
"And I have a few questions for you as well, Malfoy." And then he was gone and Draco didn't know if he seemed to disappear so quickly because of the rate his brain was processing information, or Blaise was simple able to disappear so quickly.  
  
Taking his time, Draco Malfoy walked quietly down the corridors towards the Hospital Wing. He was wondering if his headache might let him miss a class or two, and was just opening the door to the hospital Wing, when he ran strait into a black-haired beauty.  
  
****  
  
Hermione awoke the next morning really much better than she had when she had passed out. In fact, she felt surprisingly good. Although it was very early in the morning, she decided that she might as well visit Madame Pomfrey and make sure that everything was fine with her. The whole feeling- faint thing the night before had not been a pleasant experience and she did not want to experience it again.  
  
Hermione still had on her robes from yesterday. They were a bit wrinkled, but she didn't bother to change them, the sooner she visited Madame Pomfrey, the sooner she could ask Professor Dumbledore about the necklace.  
  
When she arrived at the Hospital Wing, however, Madame looked as if she didn't recognize Hermione. Hermione had spent quite a lot of time in the Hospital Wing, from the Polyjuice mishap and Basilisk petrifaction in second year to a particularly bad internal bleeding curse in her fifth year. She had even come to think of a particular bed (second down on the right side) as her own, for she had spent so much time there.  
  
"Anything I can help you with, dear?" Madame Pomfrey asked, bustling over to her.  
  
"You see, I had a sort of fainting spell last night, right before falling asleep. I feel fine now, but I don't know why that happened," Hermione said.  
  
"Hmm.could be any number of things. Mine if I check your vitals?" And without waiting for an answer, Madame Pomfrey took out her wand and did a quick check-up, all the while still talking. "You haven't been overextending yourself, have you, staying up all night, or anything? Young people need eight hours of sleep every night!"  
  
Hermione shook her head.  
  
"Fainting.you have been using a contraceptive potion, right Miss?"  
  
"Excuse me, Madam Pomfrey! I thought you would know me better than that!" Hermione was appalled.  
  
"I'm sorry, Miss-?"  
  
"Are you alright, Madame Pomfrey? I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione said, more than a little worried.  
  
"Miss Granger? Is that you?" Madame Pomfrey asked, looking at her as if for the first time.  
  
"Should I get a Professor, Madame? You don't seem to be yourself."  
  
"Oh, dear." Madame Pomfrey was muttering. She ushered Hermione over to a mirror in the large bathroom connected to the Hospital Wing.  
  
And there in the mirror, right where she herself should be, was a black- haired girl her age.  
  
But it was her, Hermione, though she couldn't see it at first. Her hair had turned from a bushy brown mass to sleek midnight-black hair that framed a much prettier face. All of her features seemed to have changed in slight ways that made a hugely different effect. Her nose was smaller, and slightly more pointed, her neck was longer and almost graceful, and her skin had paled a few shades. And her eyes, once cinnamon brown, were now a dark liquid color.  
  
"What spell is this?" Hermione asked, and her voice seemed so far away. At least that was the same, she was still Hermione.Madame Pomfrey could probably fix this in no time.  
  
"I think, Miss Granger, that we had better get the Headmaster," Madame Pomfrey said slowly, after a few minutes more wand-waving and quiet mutterings.  
  
"The Headmaster?" asked Hermione, alarmed. "This isn't.fatal, or anything, is it?"  
  
"Oh, no. In fact, I'll just floo him right now." Madame Pomfrey said as she bustled over to the fireplace.  
  
"Madame Pomfrey? May I.go get something? I wanted to ask Professor Dumbledore about it and it may have to do with.whatever this spell is." Hermione had a suspicion that the necklace may have something to do with the change, though she didn't know how.  
  
"Well, alright, I suppose. But quickly, Miss Granger!"  
  
Hermione rushed out of the Hospital Wing, thoughts about what kind of spell she could be under flying through her head. So preoccupied was she, that she ran strait into a blonde-haired student directly outside the Hospital Wing door. And it was the same blonde-haired student she had crashed into naught two days before. 


End file.
